


A home called John Watson

by Buttros



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: But John really knows how to kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lestrade with a goatee, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sherlock doesn't know how to kiss, tiny case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8568355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttros/pseuds/Buttros
Summary: Sherlock is convinced that John is going to leave Baker Street after not having made the doctor's life very easy. So he does what he thinks is necessary: he seduces him... with a case.





	

Sherlock placed the last book on the shelf with a nervous sigh, turning to look at John, silently asking for his approval. Said army doctor had just returned from the grocery store and stood gaping at the living room from the threshold. 

‘‘You… cleaned?’’ John said, blinking a few times and finally looking at Sherlock. 

Sherlock nodded, clasping his hands behind his back and shrugging like it was no big deal, ‘‘Well, I do live here’’ he said, picking up his violin and playing Piazzolla’s Winter, which he knew John liked best. The truth is Sherlock had timed perfectly the moment when he would start cleaning the house so that John would come in, see the end result and, at the same time, know it was him. 

He noticed John, back from unloading their food in the kitchen with a cuppa in his hand, siting on his chair to watch him play. Sherlock had been walking on eggs for the past two weeks, doing everything in his power to please John because, from what he had deduced, John was planning on leaving. Such conclusion seemed inescapable upon examining the facts, such as (1) Sherlock had almost set John’s last girlfriend’s hair on fire:

‘‘John… I’m-’’ Sherlock had started, still holding the blowtorch, but John interrupted him by locking his eyes to Sherlock’s, the warning implicit, and removing the object from his hands.

‘‘You need to be more careful with burning things, Sherlock’’ he had said with a resigned expression on his face, as if he were used to living with someone who constantly almost set people on fire. Amanda (or whatever her name was) had just slapped John in the face and left the flat forcefully shutting every door she could.

(2) Sherlock had crashed John’s last date with a possible next girlfriend and spilled water on her:

This time Sherlock had a good reason (or he thought he did), for Lestrade had called him with a case just 15 minutes after John left with what’s-her-name. 

‘‘I don’t even know if you’ll find this interesting but there has been a robbery-’’

‘‘Excellent!’’ Sherlock yelled, interrupting Lestrade, and said before hanging up ‘‘I’ll go get John’’ 

He didn’t hear what Lestrade had said (or even where he needed to go), but the most important thing to be done at that moment was go get John, and so he did. The restaurant was posh and way above John’s pay grade (as was the woman John was with) and Sherlock would forever swear that throwing water on her was an accident (even though it wasn’t). John had been slapped in the face and had watched her go before turning to Sherlock and saying:

‘‘There is a case, you said?’’ in a casual tone. He put on his coat and walked out with Sherlock, as the detective discreetly texted the DI for instructions. 

The case, as it turned out, was barely a two. Sherlock realized this as he walked in and took a look at his surroundings.

‘‘Where is the body?’’ John asked Lestrade, and Sherlock bit his lip and continued walking around the victim’s bedroom as the DI explained that it was, in fact, just a robbery and so the presence of a doctor was hardly needed.

Sherlock made a show out of deducing the culprit, making it seem like the case was harder than it really was. John said ‘‘Amazing’’ with a warm smile when Sherlock was done, and Sherlock hid his blush with the collars of his coat.

On their drive home Sherlock mumbled an apology for ruining John’s date, and John had just said, without turning to look at him, ‘‘You needed me. It’s fine’’ even though he knew Sherlock didn’t need him for such a pathetic case. Not even Sherlock was needed.

(3) Sherlock was the reason John got fired from the clinic. 

Sherlock couldn’t blame his behavior on an experiment or on a case this time. He was merely bored, and John wasn’t home to make him feel… better. Sherlock had gone to the clinic in an attempt to make John come back to the flat, and he deduced all of the patients on the premise.

Seven angry sick people, one threat of a lawsuit and three screaming nurses later, John finally emerged from his rooms. He came just in time to rescue Sherlock from a fight with an elderly woman who, in the confusion, slapped John’s face instead of Sherlock’s. The police was called, but John and Sherlock had left before they got there. 

‘‘It wasn’t my…my intention to…’’ Sherlock started, but John just shook his head. He took his phone out of his pocket, having received a text, and Sherlock read, over John’s shoulder, Sarah’s name. John’s whole posture changed from tense to resigned, and there was only one conclusion that Sherlock could draw. He was proven right when, the next morning, John didn’t go to the clinic or even change from his pajamas. 

Given all the facts, Sherlock was trying harder than ever to make John happy. He finished the piece and carefully placed the bow and violin in their case, just as John murmured ‘‘that was lovely, Sherlock’’ 

Sherlock turned his head slightly so that John could see his smile, but remained with his back to him, strategically hiding his blush. 

‘‘Sherlock… hm… we should talk’’ John said, making Sherlock’s heart race ‘‘Now, I’ve noticed that lately-’’ 

‘‘John, I just remembered that I have an appointment’’ Sherlock almost screeched, finally turning around with an expression that he hoped didn’t convey the fear that he was feeling. He rushed to the door and grabbed his coat and scarf ‘‘Can we do this when I get back?’’ and he left the flat before John (who at this point just sat there, bemused) could say anything.

Sherlock walked around aimlessly for almost thirty minutes before he decided to go to Scotland Yard. The DI welcomed him with a resigned sigh.

‘‘Sherlock, I don’t have the power to make people kill each other, you know’’ He said, signing the papers that Donavan was putting in front of him.

‘‘I’m not- It’s not for me. John likes being in the action too’’ _and maybe a case will persuade him to stay_ , even though Sherlock didn’t say that aloud. 

Lestrade stopped writing to look at him with one eyebrow raised (as did Donavan). ‘‘It’s not for you, it’s for a friend?’’

‘‘John… isn’t working at the clinic anymore, and I can tell that he is… bored’’ Sherlock carefully stated. 

‘‘Right. He did tell me that he quit, something about it not being stimulating enough’’ Lestrade emended, not really paying attention to anything (not even the papers which he was signing) so he missed Sherlock’s confused expression. 

‘‘John got fired from his job because of me’’ Sherlock looked down. There was a beat of silence.

‘‘Right. Well, I can give you more cold cases, if you want’’ Lestrade finally said, picking some files from his bottom drawer before Sherlock could even answer and giving them to him. Sherlock looked at the pile for a second, trying to decide what to do.

‘‘Can I look through them in a room here, somewhere?’’ 

‘‘I thought you said it was for John’’ Lestrade had a hint of a mocking smile in his face, which was probably what prompted Sherlock’s honest response.

‘‘I can’t go home without an actual case’’ he said to himself, his voice small, and it made Lestrade shift his demeanor from an amused to a concerned one. Realizing his mistake, Sherlock quickly said ‘‘I’ll just take one of the interrogation rooms, then, shall I’’ and left rapidly with the files.

Of the thirteen cases, three proved to be interesting enough, and Sherlock had to relocate somewhere with a television screen so he could watch the interrogations. 

‘‘Sherlock?’’ John’s voice brought Sherlock out of his own mind, and he wondered how long it had been since he started examining the cases ‘‘Greg called me and said that I wouldn’t let you in the flat without a case? I have no idea where-’’

‘‘John, look at this’’ Sherlock pointed at the screen, trying not to think about what Lestrade might have said, and backed the video a couple of minutes so that John could see the man answering if he had or not killed the girl.

‘‘Is that… Greg with a goatee?’’ John said, incredulous, and bent over to watch the screen more carefully.

‘‘John, you are not paying attention’’ Sherlock returned the video again and paused it ‘‘this is about a serial killer that, between the years 2006 and 2010, brutally murdered thirty three women all over the UK. The official report said twenty six but I’ve discovered the final seven in other cold cases. Our capable Scotland Yard failed to see the connection, apparently’’

The doctor licked his lips as he examined the files on the desk in front of Sherlock and said detective was momentarily sidetracked. John looked at him when he stopped talking, wordlessly asking him to continue. Sherlock cleared his throat.

‘‘Now, just from the twenty six, Lestrade came to a conclusion which, even though it wasn’t the right one, was a useful one’’ He pointed at the screen ‘‘ _this_ man, Jonathan Wilks, was a train worker who was conveniently stationed in every city where a girl went missing, and later was found dead’’

Sherlock played the video.

_Goatee-Lestrade placed pictures on the table and asked Wilks ‘‘Did you kill these women?’’_

_‘‘No’’ The man was in tears, he turned his head to stare at the floor ‘‘I waved my right to an attorney, I have alibis, I swear I didn’t do it, I swear’’_

‘‘He can’t even look at the pictures’’ John, beautiful, smart and perfect John said.

‘‘Exactly! This is not the kind of disgust that you can fake. And he did have alibis, which is why he wasn’t convicted. But the whole public, and Lestrade himself, believe that he did it, and so he was shamed at every turn until he committed suicide in 2011’’

‘‘Christ’’ John sighed, frowning, and shook his head. 

‘‘But look’’ Sherlock played it again ‘‘This isn’t the first time that he has seen these women. Now, I’ve checked, no woman had her face released to the public, only their names, so how could he have seen them?’’

‘‘So he did kill them’’ John stated, assuming his parade stance. 

‘‘No, John, he had seen them because he knew the killer. Think about it, who could have known this man’s work schedule and was close enough to him that he wouldn’t want to turn them to the police’’

‘‘A…a wife? A sibling?’’ John frowned, looking throw Jonathan’s file until realization lit up his face ‘‘He lived with his brother’’. Sherlock smiled.

‘‘Who, as it turns out, leaves in Barking Rd’’ He got up and put on his scarf as John picked up the file and ran to tell Lestrade what they’d discovered. Sherlock bit his lip, hope spreading through his chest like fire. _John won’t leave, John won’t leave, John won’t leave…_ he repeated in his mind like a mantra. 

Lestrade went with them, but in the end it was John who did all the fighting. Mark Wilks, as it turned out, was not as clever as he once had been, trying to take on the most capable of army doctors by himself. Once back at Scotland Yard, it didn’t take long for him to confess, and Lestrade walked out of the interrogation room with a frown. 

‘‘The Mark Wilks I knew was blind’’ He said, shaking his head ‘‘We didn’t even consider him a suspect’’

Sherlock snorted and walked away. It was only when he reached the street that he realized that John was stuck in a conversation with the DI. Panic rose to his throat like acid when both man turned to look at Sherlock, and he turned around to try and calm himself, repeating his mantra. After a few minutes (which felt like hours to Sherlock) John finally made his presence known by touching Sherlock’s lower back and murmuring ‘‘Shall we?’’.

The cab ride home was silent. It was only when they were hanging their coats at Baker Street that John cleared his throat.

‘‘You were amazing today’’ He smiled ‘‘You brought closure to those girls’ families’’. 

‘‘We both did’’ Sherlock murmured. He walked towards the kitchen to prepare them both some tea, and John followed him.

‘‘Me?’’ John laughed ‘‘I didn’t do anything’’

‘‘John, never underestimate your importance to the work’’ Sherlock said before he could think better of it. He blushed and cleared his throat, realizing that, even though John could never know the magnitude of his importance to Sherlock, he could at least know a part of it ‘‘It’s… better… when you are there… with me’’ 

He spoke so quietly that he was surprised when John didn’t ask him to repeat himself. He had his back turned, so he felt rather than saw John getting closer. His heart raced, his hands shook and he released a trembling breath when John’s fingers brushed the hair on his nape. 

‘‘Sherlock, if you think that you have to bring me cases every week to keep me satisfied, you are wrong’’ John murmured. He was so close that Sherlock could feel the warmth of his breath on his back ‘‘and I don’t blame you for me getting fired. God knows I hated that place and wasn’t a very good employer. So stop acting so guilty’’

‘‘I’m not… I don’t feel guilty’’ Sherlock’s voice was small, and John placed both his hands on Sherlock’s hips to turn him around and look at his face.

‘‘Sherlock, you cleaned the flat. I didn’t even think you knew were we keep the broom’’ John smiled, his eyes shining with mirth and what Sherlock could only describe as affection. The detective lowered his head.

‘‘I had to ask Mrs. Hudson’’ He grumbled and John laughed, throwing his head back. Sherlock finally smiled, somewhat relived. Maybe John wasn’t going to leave after all. ‘‘And I was only trying to make you see that living here isn’t a _complete_ nightmare, so that you would stop thinking about leaving.’’

John’s expression turned very serious all of the sudden, his hands still on Sherlock’s hips, ‘‘and why would I be thinking about leaving?’’ 

Sherlock let out a breathy and humorless laugh, shaking his head ‘‘John, I almost set your girlfriend on fire, I purposely threw water on that posh woman and, indirectly, slapped you in the face three times’’. John laughed again, but Sherlock continued, very serious ‘‘and, since the cases were the reason you wanted to stay in the first place…’’

At that last sentence John regained his composure. Maybe it was the way Sherlock’s voice broke at the end, or simply the emotion behind his words, but John locked his eyes to Sherlock’s and placed his hands against his prominent cheekbones.

‘‘Sherlock Holmes, you listen to me: (1) I honestly think that I get dates because of a made up obligation, so I was not broken hearted that you drove them away. In fact, I was relived. And (2) I didn’t stay because of the cases’’ He paused to caress the shells of Sherlock’s ears and smiled as he finished ‘‘I stayed because of you’’ 

Sherlock blinked rapidly, a flutter of eyelashes, and for a solid minute he just gaped at John. Said army doctor patiently waited for Sherlock’s next move, which was to say ‘‘I’m sorry, I stopped listening when you touched my face, what did you say?’’

John laughed again, giggling until his forehead came to rest on Sherlock’s chest. He lifted his face, running his nose up Sherlock’s neck and murmured ‘‘would you mind terribly if I kissed you?’’ which effectively reduced Sherlock to a pile of goose bumps. 

‘‘Nghhh’’ Was the vocalization that Sherlock could offer, but he did close his eyes and offer his lips in a pout. 

John chuckled and his lips ghosted upon Sherlock’s before finally, and gently, making contact. John gave him chaste kisses for a couple of minutes, sometimes stopping to call him beautiful or amazing, before he replaced his lips with a thumb, which caressed Sherlock’s bottom lip. Sherlock frowned and opened his eyes, silently saying _‘keep kissing me, please’_ , and John complied by running his tongue on Sherlock’s bottom lip.

When their tongues touched Sherlock honestly thought that he would die from heart exhaustion or would, at best, pass out. And he really must have, because the next thing he knew John was carrying him to his bed. John laid down next to him, placing his hand over Sherlock’s heart. He smiled once he noticed its quick pace, and lifted Sherlock’s hand to his own chest. 

‘‘Our hearts have matching rhythms’’ Sherlock whispered, smiling, and John nodded, agreeing. 

‘‘Is it okay if we kiss each other here? Nothing more has to happen’’ He asked, supporting himself with his elbow to gaze down at Sherlock. 

‘‘More? Like… sex?’’ Sherlock said, his voice tiny even to his own ears. John nodded, so Sherlock continued ‘‘I wouldn’t mind… having sex with you’’

John chuckled ‘‘Oh, you wouldn’t mind?’’ 

‘‘Yeah, it wouldn’t be a _huge_ sacrifice’’ He smiled, running his hands up and down John’s bicep, and John just kept laughing.

‘‘You flatter me’’ He shook his head, smiling ‘‘But seriously, love, we kissed for the first time half an hour ago. There is no pressure for us to do this right now. Or at all, really’’

‘‘John, I have lo- liked you since we met’’ Sherlock recovered from his almost slip up and continued with more calculated words ‘‘and I have wanted you for practically the same amount of time’’ 

John looked at him, searched his face for any insecurity, before leaning in and stealing Sherlock’s lips in a stronger kiss. He was just as gentle, but it felt like a different kiss entirely. John was skillfully shutting down all of Sherlock’s brain functions, making his toes curl and reducing him to a moaning mess. John’s fingers eased the zipper of Sherlock’s trousers open carefully, and all it took were dexterous fingers teasing through his pants for Sherlock to find his release. 

‘‘John’’ Sherlock moaned, hiding his face in the crook of John’s neck, and his army doctor just caressed his curls while murmuring sweet nonsense.

And Sherlock feel asleep, warmed by the embrace of John Watson, his army doctor, his home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
